


Suitcases and Snowglobes

by obsessedbutonline



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Happy Ending, M/M, Secret Santa, Sterek Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 11:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27970001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedbutonline/pseuds/obsessedbutonline
Summary: Stiles makes it his mission to give Derek a Christmas like no other, and a loft that's so cosy that he can call it home, dammit! Only, sometimes he's not so good at retaining boundaries. Does Derek mind, really, though?Written for the Sterek Secret Santa 2020 for callofthemoon. Enjoy and have a great Christmas! <3
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: The Sterek Secret Santa - Edition 2020





	Suitcases and Snowglobes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callofthemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callofthemoon/gifts).



Letting his eyes drift over the interior of the loft, Stiles felt his brow furrow. The walls were bare, the few pieces of furniture sparse and far between. 

Derek sat on the threadbare couch, his back hunched as he faced away from the teen. The moment was short, but Stiles felt his mouth tug down at the corners as he saw, for a split second, how life for Derek was whenever the rest of the pack wasn't swarming the loft.  _ Alone _ .

Feeling his hand flex slightly around the plastic bag he was holding, Stiles cursed as Derek looked over to him and the noise of crinkling plastic, his face expressionless except for his mouth: downturned in a frown. Stumbling forward, Stiles offered him a crooked grin, choosing to bury his previous thoughts at the present, deciding he'd mull over it when he left.

"Merry Christmas, Sourwolf!" He said, his forcibly jovial voice echoing loudly off of the bare walls.

Derek glowered. "Don't call me that."

"Sourpup? Wolfenstein?" He ventured, backing away hastily when Derek made to stand up. "Never mind," He added, dumping the bag onto the counter behind him. 

Letting out a drawn-out sigh, Derek gave him another withering glare. 

Just as Stiles finished fishing through the contents of the bag, pulling out a bag of Cheetos triumphantly, Scott and Allison entered the loft, arms heaped with gaudy presents wrapped in crinkling paper.

_ "Hey guys _ ," Stiles said cheerfully, ignoring Dereks look of disdain as he opened the bag of Cheetos, spraying a cloud of fine, orange dust into the atmosphere.

"Merry Christmas!" Scott chirped, dumping a pile of wrapped gifts on the chipped counter with a thump, immediately turning to envelop Allison in a hug, no doubt the hundredth in the time they'd seen each other that evening.

Stiles watched, inwardly rolling his eyes before he remembered the melancholy thought he'd had about Derek earlier, his eyes flitting to the Alpha still sat on the couch. Derek's eyes were blank once more, also fixed on the couple, but Stiles had learnt to interpret the nuances of the different types of "blank" the alpha displayed. He was upset, seen in the slight grimace and how he was clenching his teeth- the downwards tilt of his eyebrows as he struggled to look ambivalent to the situation.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Stiles turned away as Derek's eyes turned to him, catching him in the act of analysing his expression. "Right," Stiles said, clapping his hands on his knees and delving into his Cheetos once again. "-lets put on a movie, I'm thinking Home Alone, but suggestions are welcome," He rambled, going over to tug Scott to the couch, giving an amused Allison a cursory glance and a smile.

He grabbed the remote, raising his eyebrows as Derek sighed, indulgently moving to the far edge of the large sofa when Scott and Allison sat down, immediately entwining into a comforting hug at the opposite end. Stiles pressed the remote into Derek's hand, waggling his eyebrows. "I trust you to pick a suitably cheesy Christmas movie, are you up to the task, o' great Alpha?" 

"No," Derek said flatly, his hand lax around the remote as he fixed Stiles with an unimpressed glare.

"Knew I could count on you!" Stiles said gleefully, his hand going to pat Derek on the shoulder, then thinking better of it as Derek fixed his hovering hand with an incredulous look. 

Just as he headed to the small kitchenette, the loft door opened again, this time for Lydia, Jackson, Erica and Boyd. The previously subdued quiet of the loft rose in volume again when the pack began to interact, Jackson trying to persuade an indignant Scott to let him and Lydia have the spot on the couch as Erica put on a sweet voice as she tried to persuade Derek to let them erect a Christmas Tree in the loft, claiming "-it's not like you don't have space! Plus, you said we needed to bond as a pack- this could be bonding!" 

The hubbub washed over Stiles' as he fished in one of the many bags the pack had dropped off containing enough food to feed a large army...or a small wolf-pack. He found the packets of microwaveable popcorn, rifling through them in search of the buttered popcorn, grinning in triumph when he found it. After slamming it into the ancient microwave that sputtered to a start with only a small sizzle, he jumped onto the counter, letting out a drawn-out sigh and closing his eyes as the noises of the pack washed over him once again.

"Stop sitting on my counter." 

Stiles jumped, eyes flying open with a start as not even thirty seconds later, Derek stood before him with a suitably chagrined expression on his face. The popcorn let out its first pop, as Stiles turned from the sizzling microwave to Derek again, before reluctantly sliding off of the counter.

Derek stood there, fixing Stiles with an unreadable expression, as Stiles fiddled with the loose hem of his plaid shirt. "Did you...find a good movie?" He asked, for lack of a better comment. The alpha nodded towards the TV, where the silky tones of Hugh Grant filter through the noise of the settling pack. 

_ "If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around...." _

"Love Actually, really?" Stiles grimaced.

"Lydia's choice," Derek explained, Stiles nodding with understanding. The two stood in silent companionship in the kitchenette, whilst the pops of the popcorn began to peter off, the mouth-watering smell of buttered popcorn wafting towards them.

As they stood, Stiles thought about how Derek had gradually eased up as the loft became fuller, as the pack littered themselves and their belongings around the room and lounged across the furniture. Eyeing the bare walls, he found himself unsurprised that the dull interior wasn't a place of solace for Derek.

And then, in the way that inconvenient thoughts often do, one came to him, and wouldn't leave until he took the time to think about it. What if he made the place look a little more liveable? Just little by little, not anything  _ too  _ obnoxious or noticeable, he could just...make it a safe place for Derek. One that he could be  _ happy _ in. 

Absentmindedly, he got the popcorn out of the microwave, hissing as the bag burnt his hands, nearly dropping the inflated packet until Derek intervened with a sigh. Stiles grinned at him, observing the tiniest uptick of a smile on Derek's face.  _ Progress. _

* * *

Letting one end of his headphones dangle down the front of his shirt, Stiles hummed tunelessly as he walked along the aisle, hunched over the shopping cart as he scanned the rows of produce. Slowing to a halt, he eyed a particularly beat-up looking eggplant, the skin dented and bruised, spying a label peaking from the side of the vegetable, he let out a triumphant " _ aha _ !" and grabbed the eggplant, nodding in satisfaction at the thirty cents off. Another win for his dad's cholesterol. 

Rounding the aisle, he spotted a bedazzled stand, the gaudy letters spelling out " _ Christmas in Beacon Hills! _ ". Drawing closer, Stiles grinned as he spotted the snowglobes. He squinted at the little scene inside, an aerial shot of the small town and the surrounding forestry. Blocky letters proclaimed a Merry Christmas to all in Beacon Hills, making Stiles raise his eyebrows, as he stared at the mini figurines of the streets, houses and trees where so many supernatural disasters had occurred. Without a word, he picked a snowglobe up and tossed it into his cart, moving on to the tinned goods aisle.

* * *

"Where did this come from?" A confused voice came from behind the couch, making Stiles twist to see. Derek was holding the snowglobe, giving it a cautious shake as though it was going to explode any second.

"Found it whilst grocery shopping" Stiles replied nonchalantly, turning back to the weathered bestiary and flipping to the next page, sighing at yet another page of Archaic Latin. Time for Lydia to step in.

The others looked over inquisitively, Jackson rolling his eyes. "Why is it here?" Derek asked slowly, his tone unimpressed as if he was talking to a particularly slow toddler. 

"Decoration?" Stiles shrugged. Derek paused, then slowly put the snowglobe back down, staring as the fake snow settled over the small, fake town. Maybe it could stay.

* * *

"Okay, so you fold the first section over the other half, then flatten that down-" 

"Why are we doing this?" Jackson demanded, Lydia elbowing him in the ribs without taking her focus off of the origami tree taking shape on the table in front of her.

"Best one gets a prize" Stiles prompted, pushing his phone forwards, a cheerful woman explaining how to turn a piece of paper into a 3D Christmas tree.

"Is it food? 'Cuz we'd get the food anyway," Isaac interjected, making Stiles sigh and chuck a piece of paper at his head that he smoothly caught. 

"It's the  _ principle  _ of the food, plus, if you win, you get the whole pan of brownies for yourself, you don't have to share," Stiles said smugly, watching as the pack looked up in succession, suddenly far more interested in winning than before.

"And you're baking them?" Jackson asked stiffly, Stiles nodding. "I guess I'll have to beat these untalented fuckers, not that there was any doubt anyway," He sniffed, making the others complain, their babbling rising over each other as they fought for their spot as victorious origami-creator.

With only a few mishaps, there was a group of 3D Christmas trees lined up on the counter in front of Stiles an hour later, a row of teens standing hopefully behind them. 

Letting out a hum, Stiles turned to the figure behind him, Derek, stood watching the display with a disbelieving face. "As Alpha, I feel like it's your responsibility to judge which one's best," Stiles said lightly, beckoning him forwards. Derek sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I'd better hurry, then,"

* * *

Stiles set the two overflowing bags onto the counter with a grunt, Derek staring at them in confusion.

"What," 

"Decorations," Stiles said, flashing the 'Were a grin. "Be prepared, 'cuz Erica's arriving with a tree in five," 

"We didn't agree to this," 

"We didn't agree to me holding you up in a pool for eight hours but we both liked that outcome a lot, didn't we?" Stiles said cheerfully, rifling through the bags and unearthing a seemingly neverending string of tinsel, wrapping it around Derek, who snarled in response. Stiles only laughed as he fished out his speaker, humming along as the jovial tones of Mariah Carey filled the room.

As Stiles promised, Erica soon arrived with a tree, and half of the forest along with it, covered in dirt and a maniacal grin, the others sheepishly following after.

_ This place has some feeling to it.  _ Stiles thought with satisfaction.  _ He was getting somewhere. _

* * *

The evening was still, the afternoon heat diminishing for a fresh night. Stiles laid against the window of the loft, eyes closed as he tried to visualise the Archaic Latin in the book.

_ A luna sicut lupus in caritate- _

_ A love like a wolf to the moon. _

"There are some cardboard boxes, under my bed," A voice spoke,

Stiles jumped, eyes flying open as he banged his head against the window, glaring halfheartedly at Derek who stared on, unmoving. " _ Jeez, warn a guy! Next time I fall through this window, I'm blaming you _ " He grouched, rubbing his head before the 'Weres words caught up with him. " _ Wait, whats in the boxes _ ?"

Derek let out a slight sigh, capturing Stiles' full attention. He looked at the Alpha, whose shoulders were slumped, face tired and unguarded. 

" _ Under my bed, _ " Derek repeated, before slumping onto a bar stool nearby, " _ -there are some decorations I salvaged from the fire, you should- _ " He let out another breath, the sound rattling in his throat. " _ You should see if any are worth putting up. _ " 

Stiles stared, lost for a moment, shocked at the vulnerability Derek was showing. For a second they stood, staring at each other silently before Stiles spoke. " _ Yeah! God, yes! Derek, I'll definitely do that, thank you, for letting me _ ," He said, the words catching as he tried to mask his gratitude and shock. Watching the downward slope of Derek's shoulders, Stiles' mind reeled as he thought about the trust Derek was giving him, making a small part of him light up, the warmth settling behind his ribs. 

Stiles eyes slowly tracked to Derek's bed, seeing a dusty cardboard corner peeking out under the handknitted woollen cover- a gift from the pack. Looking back to Derek, he realised the Were was staring at the box too as if the contents might leap out and kill him if he got too close. Maybe that was why he wanted Stiles to look through it. Because he couldn't.

As Stiles reached the box, he heard a sharp exhale from behind him and turned in concern as Derek stood up, the bar stool screeching against the concrete floor. " _ I'll be outside if you need me,"  _ His voice was stony, making Stiles nod. Derek walked out, the door closing heavily behind him. He wanted the decorations to be out, but he couldn't handle doing it himself. Stiles sympathised, gently opening the cardboard box as he thought back to how long it took him to be able to bite into a pierogi dumpling from his mom's cookbook without a feeling of nausea overwhelming him.

The box was a treasure trove. As Stiles sifted through the contents, they clinked softly and rustled, their fragility constantly at the forefront of his mind. Old fashioned glass ornaments, their surfaces painted dusty-pink or emerald green with intricate patterns on their frail surface. Creased Christmas cards from family friends, the edges singed and the words yellowed and faded. Clumsily made pottery, obviously shaped by children, in the abstract shapes of angels, stars and hearts. And under it all, wrapped in cloth, a crudely carved wooden ornament, the surface worn and smooth, the Hale Triskele.

Feeling himself let out a sigh, Stiles carefully rewrapped the triskele and gently laid it back in the box, it was beautiful. He ached for Derek, thinking of the memories he'd missed, the heirlooms and pictures, burnt now to a crisp. It was an easy decision, deciding to put the ornaments on the tree, and one Stiles was truly honoured to do. Derek  _ trusted  _ him.

Looking under the bed once more, Stiles squinted, seeing a large shape. Pulling the object out, he found it to be a clunky suitcase, leatherbound and cracked. The material was stained, and a small T.H was engraved on the corner. Talia Hale?

Looking over to the door Derek had exited from, Stiles spent a second debating his curiosity, but it outweighed his dubiousness as to whether he was allowed to look inside.

Cracking open the lid, he grunted as it swung open with a puff of dust. The suitcase was old, and the contents were covered by a soft, creased blanket. Tracing it slowly with his fingers, Stiles felt again the pang of sorrow he did whenever he remembered the monstrosities Derek had suffered. Pulling back the cloth, his breath caught in his throat as his hand brushed over a photo hidden just under the blanket. 

It was a blurry photo, dated in the corner for well over a decade before the current date. There are eleven people in the photo, all hugging in front of a homey mansion, presumably the Hale Mansion. The light falls gently on the people, evidently taken at dusk as the people in the photo smile sunnily at the cameraman. Looking closer, Stiles stares in shock at a familiar figure sitting in the front of the picture. It's Derek, only younger and more carefree than Stiles had ever seen him. He's reclining lazily against another girl, who glares playfully at him, the signature Hale eyebrows a striking feature on her face.

Just as Stiles goes to flip the photo over, Stiles jumps as the door to the loft opens again, Derek entering the room. His head was bowed, until he shot up, staring at Stiles, his eyes slowly tracking down to the trunk lay open beside him, and the photo in his hands.

Stiles sprang back, letting go of the photo and apologising profusely as Derek rapidly approached, no words coming from him. His face, though, was murderous. Stiles went still, as Derek grabbed his shoulder, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. Derek rapidly strode back across the loft with Stiles in tow, stumbling across the floor.

"Get. Out." Derek growled, his features turning feral and his eyes beginning to glow as Stiles felt pinpricks of claws in his shoulders.

"Derek! I'm so sorry, I know it was an invasion of privacy, I just wanted to help-!" His words died as the door was slammed in his face, leaving only a distraught feeling of  _ wrong  _ and the throbbing of his soon-to-bruise shoulder. 

Fuck. 

* * *

"I've tried calling him over a hundred times now, Scotty, he hates me," Stiles said mournfully, as Scott huffed, cradling a meowing kitten in his hands as he brought it over to the examination table at Deaton's. 

"Why are you so bothered about this, Stiles?" Scott asked, putting the small kitten down and gingerly unwrapping its bandaged leg. "Not to be a dick, but Derek's  _ always  _ pissed at you," 

Stiles scoffed but didn't say a word, because...yeah, he kinda was, and he had a point. It was a tale as old as time. Stiles had been pissing Derek off since the dawn of time. "But it's different this time," He wheedled, banging his head against the wall in defeat and then wincing at the dull pain it caused. 

"Why, because you've realised you actually like him?" 

"No, I just don't want things to be awkward-"

"Or you realised you have a huge crush on him," Scott countered.

"I do  _ not _ -"

Oh. Shit. 

Scott stared smugly as Stiles gaped, starting to freak out a little. When did this happen? When did he start to see Derek as someone he wanted to get to know more, to get to know the  _ best _ ? Fuck.

"Look, dude, pack meeting's tonight, talk to him, apologise, tell him how you feel!" Scott deftly fastened a new bandage to the kitten's leg, who mewled in protest.

"Easy for  _ you _ to say, Allison practically fell into your lap!" 

Scott fixed him a stare, making Stiles shift guiltily, because...no, she didn't.

_ Fuck. _

* * *

Stiles approaches the loft door, the others looking suspiciously at him as he heard his heartbeat drum through his ears. Jackson pushed it open, sauntering through and the others following suit.

"Remember, apologise," Scott said sternly, making Stile nod, secretly pleased at the sudden positive turn Scott had had towards Derek's wellbeing.

Walking into the loft, he shuffles to one of the couches and perches on the end, fiddling with his sleeve as the meeting progressed. As the others spoke on the current matters, he stayed silent, tensing slightly whenever he heard Derek speak. As the formalities drew to a close and the others turned the TV to a Christmas movie and brought out snacks, Stiles sighed, and finally got up to get a drink, the uncomfortable-ness prickling at the back of his throat. 

Filling a glass, he let out another sigh, letting his eyes wander. They came to rest on a photo frame, holding a familiar photo. The family picture. Squinting at it, he felt a shock course through him. Why had Derek decided to put it up?

Feeling a throat clear behind him, he tensed again, turning to see Derek staring at him, impassive.

"I-" Stiles started, ready to begin his apology speech.

"Don't," Derek said, shaking his head. "I know you're sorry, and I'm," He struggled, seemingly not able to find the words. "I'm glad you found it. O hadn't seen it in years, and now, I want to see it," He admitted, making a small smile curl at Stiles' lips.

"I'm glad," Stiles returned, smiling at the Alpha, who reluctantly smiled back. A silence lapsed between them as the noises of the jovial pack filtered through to the kitchen. 

Staring into his glass, Stiles shrugged, turning to go, but before he could leave, Derek enveloped him in a tight hug, making Stiles freeze. 

"Thank you," He mumbled into Stiles' chest, clinging onto him. Feeling his mouth open in shock, Stiles clung on just as tightly.

"Anytime, big guy" He smiled.

The two stood like that for a few minutes, breathing each other in and feeling everything they couldn't say.

Finally, Derek stepped back, his cheeks flushed. "Would you want to go out sometime?" He asked bluntly, Stiles blinking in shock.

"Like...on a date?" Stiles asked hesitantly, wondering if he should celebrate just yet.

"No, on a murder mission," Derek replied flatly, Stiles taking a second to recognise the sarcasm before huffing a laugh.

"Fuck, Derek, I'd love to," He answered honestly, watching as Dereks face broke out into an honest-to-god _ grin _ . 

And that is how Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski embarked on one of the best adventures of their lives, and one they'd find to be very enjoyable. One they would never ever regret.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to everyone whos given this ficlet a read <33 comments are very much appreciated so leave one if ya want (: 
> 
> and to callofthemoon, I hope you like!! i included lots of fluff and pack bonding, so hopefully that's up your alley. i hope you enjoy your fic!! have a great Christmas <3 (:


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